


Not-So-Guilty Pleasure

by Waffle-o (XylB)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, FAHC, GTA Universe, M/M, Smut, Stripper AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 04:39:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14277102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylB/pseuds/Waffle-o
Summary: The stripper AU no one asked for! Ft. Geoff and his questionable decisions re: a certain blue-eyed stripper.





	Not-So-Guilty Pleasure

Geoff carefully avoids the eyes of the dancers walking around, just as equally avoids meeting the scrutinising gazes of the bouncers as he taps his soda can against the table and glances towards the front door, his mouth twisting into a frown.

Greene’s _late_.

Ramsey doesn’t like his contacts being _late_.

And what’s almost worse, is it’s clearly a _ladies_ ’ night, so to speak. Geoff doesn’t frequent these sorts of places but he knows enough to know that there’s not usually nearly this many _male_ performers walking around, tall and handsome and unfortunately _exactly_ Geoff’s type. And he can appreciate a good view, but boy does the atmosphere ruin it. Tacky, neon lighting and peeling leather cushions, flaking paint on the walls and the performers’ perfumes overrun with the sour stench of desperate hopelessness.

Another song starts up, slow and thumping, a seductive beat poured through fritzy speakers to cover the low tones of the patrons gathered around the stage, dirty bills tucked between their fingers and into booty shorts _far_ too small for that guy’s package. Not that Geoff’s looking – he tears his eyes away from the, admittedly, averagely attractive guy on stage, flirting with the audience as he grinds against the pole, fake handcuffs dangling from the waist of said shorts.

Geoff huffs and looks towards the entrance as he pushes himself up to stand, fully ready to leave with a note to the head bouncer to give Greene a good solid punch for him, when a hand abruptly plants itself on his chest – his head whips back around while he’s gently pushed down. Instinctively, he goes to grab the wrist, but soon he’s pinned down by much more than just a hand as someone slithers into his lap, their head cocked in a sly, knowing way that Geoff doesn’t like.

He’s a little distracted by other things, though. Like the fact that this guy is dressed no better than the one on stage, clad in nothing save for a pair of tiny, dark blue shorts – _tight_ shorts, god, small enough Geoff’s pretty sure they classify as fancy underwear – and simple black boots laced up to his ankles. And oh, of course, arms that Geoff could think about for _days_.

 _Fuck_.

“And where are you going?” He purrs, like he didn’t just pour himself onto Geoff’s lap and render him almost speechless. Geoff opens his mouth to answer and gets a little lost in how _blue_ the guy’s eyes are in the tacky neon lights, enchanting and clear and _especially_ pretty when compared with the gentle smirk he wears.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” he continues, lazily rolling his hips forward. Geoff steadfastly doesn’t think about the fact that this guy’s bulge just deliberately brushed against his and fails. Badly.

“Uh,” Geoff says, intelligently. “ _Uh_.”

The guy – Blue Eyes, Geoff decides in the spur of the moment – laughs pleasantly, boldly tipping Geoff’s chin up with a finger to look him in the eye.

“Want a dance?” He asks, his voice that perfect, rumbly timbre that shoots straight to Geoff’s cock.

Geoff’s really got to get a handle on himself.

“I’m – waiting for someone,” Geoff says instead of _no, thanks_. Blue Eyes pouts attractively.

“It’s business,” Geoff adds unnecessarily.

“So is this,” Blue Eyes replies smoothly, rocking forward again and grinning at the definite _interest_ he feels. In the same moment, Geoff flushes to the tips of his ears.

“Different business,” Geoff protests weakly, but there’s no protest in the way his eyes drop to Blue Eyes’ lips, to the pretty pout just _begging_ to be used. Blue Eyes tilts his head the other way.

“If you say so,” Blue Eyes says, slowly scraping his teeth over his lower lip. Geoff’s breath hitches _hopefully_ inaudibly.

Blue Eyes’ gaze snaps up to somewhere behind Geoff all of a sudden – a moment later, he chuckles, low and oddly _knowing_ and again at that pitch that reverberates through Geoff’s bones and doesn’t help the situation in his crotch.

“Oh, that’s quite some _important_ business,” Blue Eyes teases, his gaze dropping back to Geoff.

Geoff balls his hands into fists to stop himself touching Blue Eyes, swallowing hard as Blue Eyes slides gracefully off his lap, his body warmth still pressed onto Geoff’s thighs.

“I - ” Geoff starts, but Blue Eyes cuts him off with a finger to his lips.

“You know where to find me,” he says, a sly grin cutting into his cheek. He pats Geoff’s cheek before straightening, glancing back up to the main door again. “I think Greene’s lookin’ for ya.”

Geoff pauses for a moment before -

“Wait, hey, how - ”

But the question trails off in mid-air as Blue Eyes walks away, a cocky swing to his hips that makes Geoff’s throat dry up. Curiosity nags at him, though, of how the hell Blue Eyes recognises Bruce, but it dissipates when a friendly hand claps to his shoulder, startling him a little but thankfully Bruce doesn’t seem to notice as he sits down across from Geoff, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

“Hey, sorry, traffic was _terrible_.”

“Is that her name, now?” Geoff teases, gesturing to the hickey peeking out from under Bruce’s collar. Bruce rolls his eyes and laughs.

“Look, do ya want these coordinates or not?” He asks, lifting his eyebrows. Geoff cracks a smile and leans forward.

“Yeah, kept me waitin’ long enough for ‘em.”

“You seemed to be passin’ the time just fine,” Bruce says as he opens his phone.

“Oh, shut up,” Geoff mutters. Bruce snorts.

\-- 

“I’m back!” Geoff hollers, locking the door behind him and frowning at the lack of response.

“Are any of you fuckers here?” He mumbles, glancing around the seemingly empty penthouse, jackets strewn over the back of the sofa and an array of guns still laid out on the table tucked to the side.

The lights are off save for the shreds of moonlight that spill through the windows, striped over the remnants of last night’s video game marathon like some eerie black and white oil painting. Geoff frowns at the unnatural stillness, a sliver of tranquility he hasn’t seen since before he recruited even _Jack_.

He grunts to himself and hangs his jacket up on the hook beside Jack’s before heading into the kitchen to check the calendar. There’s nothing booked on it except Gavin’s dentist appointment – fucker probably didn’t even _go_ , anyway, and as Geoff’s eyes trail over to the fridge he sighs.

There’s two different notes – one scrawled in Michael’s handwriting – _Getting bevs, be back by_ _one_ – and signed by Gavin and Jack underneath. The second one is crumpled slightly and very brief – _on job_ – but Geoff supposes he can’t expect flowery prose from the Vagabond signature scrawled under it, Jeremy’s just beside it.

Geoff checks the clock – just gone midnight – and rubs a hand over his mouth, pulling a new Post-It off the pad and plastering it over Michael’s note.

_We have a bulletin board for a reason_

_-_ _your landlord_ _&_ _boss_

\-- 

“Welcome back,” Blue Eyes purrs as he settles boldly on Geoff’s lap, hooking an arm around his neck with a wicked grin.

Geoff’s mouth goes dry and he guiltily glances over at the couple a few tables over – Blue Eyes follows his gaze and hums, tapping Geoff’s chin to refocus his gaze on _him_.

“No one’s watching,” he assures, dragging his finger down Geoff’s chest. “Or are you waiting for more _business_ again?”

“I am,” Geoff lies.

“Hm, are they here yet?”

“They're running late,” Geoff adds, doesn't want to admit that he came back for one person only and it wasn't Bruce.

“How late?” Blue Eyes asks.

Instead of an immediate response, Geoff’s eyes shamefully drop down to the little silk bow on Blue Eyes’ shorts, sitting pretty right over a bulge that makes Geoff’s mouth water. Blue Eyes bites his lip.

“Late enough,” Geoff replies, dragging his eyes back up the strong lines of Blue Eyes’ body as he smoothly – at least he hopes _smoothly_ – slips his wallet out and covertly thumbs out a few big bills, folding them over his index finger and holding them up for Blue Eyes to see.

Blue Eyes hums thoughtfully and plucks the bills from Geoff’s fingers, levelling him with a considering look.

“The rules are no touching,” he says, “but for this much I'll let you tuck it in.”

And he hands the bills right back and sits up a little more in Geoff’s lap – Geoff’s eyebrows briefly knit together in confusion but then Blue Eyes rolls his hips, cocks his head, and all the air punches out of Geoff’s lungs in a quiet _oh_ as he realises what Blue Eyes is waiting for.

Geoff folds the bills up a little more, hesitates for a long moment before choosing the most appropriate spot he can think of, his fingers only trembling slightly as he gently tucks the bills into Blue Eyes’ waistband, just beside his hip.

Blue Eyes flashes him a grin and scoots up on his lap and from the moment the new song starts up Geoff knows he's _fucked_.

\-- 

“Hey boss,” Michael says as he slides a cup of coffee down the counter, grinning when Geoff catches it neatly against his palm. Geoff grunts and rubs his temple as he curls his fingers around the handle.

“Y’hungover?” Michael jokes, and then frowns when Geoff doesn't react. “Wait, Geoff, are you really - “

“No, no, I haven't – I'm still good,” Geoff sighs. “Jus’ had a loud night.”

“Okay,” Michael says, and pauses. “Fun night, though?”

Despite the pounding music Geoff can still hear in his head, the stiff muscles from little sleep and less rest, he nods. Random little snippets of memories come to him – of the dance, of the lights, of the way the neon blue highlighted the dip of Blue Eyes’ lower lip and how pretty his lashes looked in the hot pink strobes striped across the club – and he shoves them away before he ends up doing what he did last night. He doesn't know if his dick can handle _another_ jerk-off session.

“ – not a lot of security around then, either.”

“What, you been checkin’ it out?”

“A little.”

Gavin, Ryan, and Jeremy emerge from the hallway mid-conversation, Ryan’s head swivelling from one to the other and a gruff chuckle his only response.

“What’re you planning?” Geoff asks, a wary eye on Gavin.

“Gavin wants to rob the mask store,” Jeremy says – Gavin bursts into giggling when Michael sighs loudly and Ryan laughs with him, his eyes crinkling under the mask.

“Come on, mask guy likes us!” Michael exclaims, dramatically tossing his hands up in the air. “Don't fuck _that_ up for us as well.”

“Oi, what else have I messed up?”

“The Ammu-Nation on Vine, the warehouse on Fifth, the costume shop on Angel – ” Michael crosses them off on his fingers as he lists each occasion and Jeremy breaks into bright laughter as Gavin playfully swats Michael – Michael backhands him in the chest and Gavin giggles at it.

“Okay, okay, don't beat each other up yet,” Geoff says, laying a hand on Michael’s shoulder.

“He’ll fuck it up!” Michael protests.

“Nah, I'll hit the one in La Mesa,” Gavin says. “That's a right piece of shit.”

“As long as it's not Vespucci,” Geoff warns, glancing over at where Jeremy’s making coffee. Looks at Ryan, who’s pulled up a chair to sit opposite from Geoff at the counter, watching them with dark eyes, his chin propped up on his hand.

“Don't let him fuck it up,” Geoff orders, pointing at Ryan. “You're in charge.”

“Mhmm,” Ryan hums, with a cheeky two-fingered salute, and Geoff gets the feeling he's smiling.

“I mean it, Ryan,” Geoff growls.

“Mhmm,” Ryan hums again, and Geoff supposes that's all he’ll get out of him. Man of few fucking words but Geoff knows he doesn’t need words to be the most chaotic motherfucker out of them.

\-- 

Geoff doesn't know how Gavin, Jeremy, and Ryan managed to set both the mask store _and_ their getaway vehicle on fire, but he heavily suspects it's something to do with the rocket launcher purchase he sees on his credit card bill.

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He's taking it out of their next heist cuts.

\--  

Blue Eyes climbs onto Geoff’s lap with a laugh, easily slipping the bills out of Geoff’s fingers and tucking them in right over his crotch, drawing his eyes immediately to the bows on the panties tonight, stuck on over the bulge of Blue Eyes’ cock in a _very_ attractive manner.

“What is this, your fourth time?” Blue Eyes asks, eyeing him up and down. “Awfully frequent for someone like you.”

“What do you mean, someone like me?” Geoff asks defensively, his fists balling up by his thighs.

“Not like them,” Blue Eyes answers, his gaze flicking over to the crowd gathered around the stage.

Geoff narrows his eyes and Blue Eyes deliberately licks his lips, grinning down at Geoff.

“I _much_ prefer you,” he purrs, stroking a finger under Geoff’s chin. Geoff swallows thickly and Blue Eyes’ hips roll against his, filthy and slow.

“What’s your name, anyway?” Geoff asks. Blue Eyes smirks and trails his finger down Geoff’s chest, leaning in close enough his breath puffs out over Geoff’s face, pleasantly minty.

“Call me a smooth ride,” he drawls, his voice deep and gravelly and intense.

“Oh,” Geoff breathes. Blue Eyes grins.

“Sit back and enjoy it,” he says, and plants a hand on Geoff’s chest to push him back.

Geoff obeys.

Geoff’s _weak_.

\-- 

Geoff doesn't drink anymore but he sure remembers the burn of whiskey and he wonders vaguely if Blue Eyes would rough up his throat just as badly.

Kinda _hopes_ he would.

It's like a fever dream, this insistent image of Blue Eyes – Ryder, as Geoff’s taken to calling him in his head, twisting his flirty _call me a smooth ride_ into some sort of name. But it's insistent and _nagging_ and as Geoff fucks into his fist he can't help but imagine Ryder’s pretty mouth falling open on a rough groan as he fucks into Geoff’s mouth, his stupid little panties tugged down just enough for Geoff to get his lips around him.

Geoff imagines Ryder would be a little bossy, would roll his hips up and not be shy about using Geoff’s mouth – Geoff leaks over his fingers and pants against the wall, pressing his forehead harder to it as his toes curl in his shoes, a choked-off moan caught in his throat. He fast-forwards to later, Ryder’s panties tugged aside for Geoff to finger him open, sink into him.

Geoff’s throat goes dry and he's stuck on the mental image of fucking Ryder as his hand speeds up, quick and dirty in the dark, quiet room and his breaths far too loud for his surroundings. Fantasy-Ryder moans his name and asks him to go faster, shudders when Geoff touches his cock and whines when Geoff starts _stroking_.

Geoff comes the same time fantasy-Ryder does, tripping out of him with a low grunt and come spurting on the wall and over his hand – fantasy-Ryder comes messy for him, his abdomen stained white as his muscles flex and bunch up and even as the tension bleeds out of Geoff he can’t shake the image, the certain smug smirk that would be on Ryder’s face if he saw Geoff now.

Before Geoff can sink too far into the self-pitying part of the night, the front door to the penthouse opens and shuts, Gavin’s cheery voice carrying through the flat along with Ryan’s laughter. Geoff sighs and slumps forward, idly wiping his finger over the slit of his softening dick.

“We’re back!” Gavin announces with a single knock on Geoff’s door.

“Yeah, we can all hear that!” Geoff calls back, trying for grumpy and failing – Gavin and Ryan share another laugh and Geoff listens to them amble off to their respective bedrooms, doors shutting and locks clicking and water running as Geoff pushes himself off the wall.

\-- 

“Geoff. Geoff. _Ge_ \- ”

“I heard you the first time,” Geoff groans, dragging a hand down his face as he looks up at Jack. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jack says with a light shrug. He chuckles a bit and Geoff laughs despite himself, turning his phone off to pay attention to the game Jack and Michael are playing.

“Who’s winning?”

“Me – FUCK,” Michael shouts as he falls off the track – Jack races ahead of him with a giggle and Michael spits out a garbled _gah_ as his car respawns, leaving him in ninth place and seven spaces behind Jack.

“That motherfucking CORNER,” Michael rambles, focused intently on the race as he tries to catch up. “Mother _fucker_.”

“Me,” Jack says calmly. Michael spins off the corner again and groans loudly, impatiently revving up his engine before his wheels even touch the ground.

“So uh, how many you got – ” Geoff’s question is cut off by another frustrated grunt from Michael as he flips off the half-pipe, dropping the controller and hanging his head in despair as Jack giggles himself silly, tears forming in the corners of his eyes as Michael sighs heavily.

\-- 

“Y’know,” Ryder says, fingers of one hand curled loosely around the nape of Geoff’s neck, “y’could get a private room.”

Geoff glances up at him, half-hard already and desperately trying to hide it but that's difficult when Ryder’s been grinding on him for a good fifteen minutes, one hand on Geoff’s neck and the other – _groping_ himself, running over his own chest and down to snap the waistband of the tight red panties, cup the front and groan low into Geoff’s ear as Geoff pants and swallows thickly below him. Ryder’s panting, too, sweat shining across his broad shoulders and over his throat, his biceps flexing with every dirty roll of his hips and shamelessly licking his lips when he catches Geoff staring.

“And why bother with that?” Geoff asks, not quite wanting to admit that he's _really_ making a habit of visiting a strip club whereas weeks ago he would’ve never thought it.

“Oh, private dances are _way_ more fun,” Ryder purrs, dragging a finger up Geoff’s throat. “More...freedom.”

“Freedom?”

“Mhm,” Ryder agrees, eyes flicking up to meet Geoff’s. Geoff's still not sure about the rules on dancers touching clients but he's not about to tear his gaze away and see what anyone else is doing. It's not like he's _opposed_ to Ryder’s flirty touches.

“Tell you what,” Ryder breathes, “Come check it out. Won't cost extra this time.”

Geoff _uh_ s intelligently, too many ideas crashing into him at the same time with conflicting interpretations of _Ryder_ and _private room_ and Ryder laughs lightly, sliding off his lap to stand and offering a hand to help him up. Geoff takes it dumbly and Ryder grasps his arm to guide him away from his booth, a teasing little swing in his hips.

They walk past a few other... _occupied_ booths and Geoff politely doesn't look, keeps his eyes either ahead of him or on Ryder – god, Ryder’s as tall as him, his shoulder brushing Geoff’s every few steps and Geoff is _acutely_ aware of how overdressed he is compared to Ryder. Or, well. He supposes Ryder’s technically the one _under_ dressed, but in this atmosphere Geoff feels like the odd one out.

“He's covered,” Ryder says to a bouncer standing in front of a hallway, snapping Geoff’s attention away from the dancing lights on the floor to see the neon sign above the entrance – _VIP Lounge_.

The bouncer scrutinises Geoff for a second and then grunts, stepping aside to let them pass – Ryder confidently leads Geoff in past the velvet curtain, past makeshift rooms with curtains mostly drawn across them. Geoff makes the mistake of glancing at one and finds a club girl sitting backwards on someone’s lap, facing Geoff and giving him a little wave as she grinds down on the person – Geoff feels the tips of his ears go pink and he resolutely keeps his eyes on Ryder, watching him nod politely to the bouncer patrolling the hallway. The bouncer nods back. Geoff avoids his eyes.

Ryder suddenly stops in front of a curtain and spins around to curl his fingers around Geoff’s shoulders, giving him a grin before turning him to back him into the curtains, into the little booth and down into a chair, eagerly clambering on before Geoff’s even caught his breath.

“Shit,” Geoff gasps, fixing his hands to the edge of the seat to resist temptation and looking helplessly up at Ryder on top of him. A loud, fake moan erupts from a few rooms over and Ryder pauses, thoughtfully biting his lip before sliding off of Geoff to pad over to the curtains. He tugs them completely shut – a hand thrusts through before he can return and Ryder opens the part to look at the bouncer trying to stop him.

“I’m good here, sweetheart,” he says, and Geoff notes with a sort of smugness that Ryder’s taller than the bouncer even.

“You know the rules,” the bouncer says, staring Ryder down. “Curtains open.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Ryder says coolly, and leans down to speak in the bouncer’s ear. The bouncer’s eyes flick to Geoff, to the tattoos on his exposed hands, and he nods, stepping back to let Ryder close the curtains all the way.

“There, now we won’t be bothered,” Ryder says, sauntering back to Geoff to settle on his lap again – these chairs are much more luxurious than the booths, Geoff notices, plush and wide and comfortable.

“What did you tell him?” Geoff asks, looking up at the stripper poured on his lap, the easy lounge lighting making him all the more attractive without neon strobes in the way.

“Just asked if he recognised you,” Ryder replies with a wicked grin. “He did.”

Geoff cocks an eyebrow.

“Didn’t realise my job had so many perks,” he teases – Ryder hums in agreement and gently curls his fingers around Geoff’s wrist, plucking his hand from the chair and laying it on his waist. Geoff instinctively removes his hand, his wrist tingling where Ryder gripped it, and Ryder simply looks at him.

“I – no touching,” Geoff says lamely. “I don’t – wanna – take advantage of…” he trails off uselessly, swallowing thickly. “Not because of – my job.”

“Oh, this isn’t a job perk,” Ryder assures him, lifting Geoff’s hand again and pressing it to his waist – Geoff’s fingers flex around his softer middle and Ryder’s hand stays plastered over his, holding it in place. “This is a _you_ perk.”

“Ryder – ”

“Trust me,” Ryder breathes, settling Geoff’s other hand on the other side of him and letting go when Geoff grips him lightly. “I don’t let just anybody touch me.”

“You’re lying,” Geoff scoffs. He knows he’s not special, not to Ryder. It’s Ryder’s damn job to be flirtatious and Geoff’s merely a weak, weak customer.

“I’m not,” Ryder says, settles more comfortably in Geoff’s lap and leans in a little, arms over Geoff’s shoulders as he deliberately drags his crotch against Geoff’s to make him breathless. “Y’know what happened to the last guy that tried to touch me?”

Geoff mutely shakes his head and exhales shakily at the flex of muscle under his palms, more pronounced with the second slow roll of Ryder’s hips.

“I broke his wrist,” Ryder whispers in his ear. He grinds down harder on Geoff’s lap and gives a pleased rumble when he feels Geoff’s erection against him, another happy noise when Geoff’s hands slip a little on his waist and he scrambles to put them back where they were.

“Good,” Ryder purrs, his eyelashes brushing Geoff’s cheek and his faint grin touching Geoff’s jaw.

Geoff whimpers.

\-- 

“And then we’ll all drive off!” Gavin finishes, pointing at the map with a dramatic flourish and knocking his sunglasses down onto his nose to grin at them. “Got that?”

“You want me to _what_ now?” Jeremy asks, leaning forward on his elbows to peer at Gavin.

“Steal a fire engine!” Gavin chirps. “‘S easy, the doors close at half-four on the dot and the rotation changes at five – police patrols at quarter to ‘n it’s a busy street, so be careful.”

“Easy?” Jeremy says incredulously, eyebrows flying up his forehead. “Gavin, you want me to steal a fire truck, _by myself_ , in broad daylight?!”

“Yep!”

Jeremy tosses his hands up and Michael giggles, swivelling absently in his chair as Jeremy despairs.

“Don’t worry, I have to steal a speedboat, apparently,” Geoff drawls. “From the _mayor_.”

“Yeah, why can’t we just use normal vehicles?” Jack asks. “We’ve got boats.”

“It’s more fun,” Gavin says with a shrug. “And there’s two of you getting the boat anyway! It’ll be easier!”

“Michael, help,” Jeremy groans. “Please.”

“Sorry, I’m busy, uh - ” Michael leans forward to look at the whiteboard and laughs raucously, “ - sitting in the getaway car!”

“Asshole,” Jeremy mutters, and leans back to talk to Ryan over Michael. “Ryan! You’ll help me, right? Battle buddy?”

Ryan shakes his head and Jeremy sighs loudly, shooting him puppy-eyes across the table.

“Ryan, _please_?” He begs. Ryan’s shoulders shake with laughter and he quickly signs something to Jeremy – Jeremy groans and slumps forward on the table again.

“Fuck all of you,” Jeremy grumbles. “Why do you always take Ryan anyway, Gav?”

“‘Cause he’s handy,” Gavin says lightly.

“Yeah, handy, that’s the word I’d use,” Geoff says, watching as Jeremy half-heartedly signs something back to Ryan – Ryan shakes his head again and Jeremy pouts.

“You’re just watching the shop! You don’t need Ryan for that!” Jeremy protests.

“Well I’ll get bored, won’t I,” Gavin replies, glancing over at Geoff. “Geoffrey, thoughts?”

“I – “ Geoff waves a useless hand in the air and shrugs. “Aw, fuck it, do it.”

“Geoff!” Jeremy exclaims.

“Thank you, Geoffrey!”

“We can always bail,” Geoff reminds them, and makes a point to stare Gavin down. “I – no, I don’t trust you,” Geoff turns to Ryan instead and Gavin splutters offendedly, gesturing helplessly as Geoff pins Ryan with a glare, staring straight into the shadowed eyes of the mask. “If he fucks up, you call retreat, got it?”

Ryan nods and salutes him with two fingers, laughing quietly at Gavin’s offended _Oi!_.

\--  

Geoff’s become awfully familiar with the cheap velvet decor of the VIP Lounge over the last couple weeks – drops in into a booth and lets Ryder take him to the back and he pays the extra with the compensation cash he took from Gavin’s last heist cut for damaging Geoff’s bike.

Right now Geoff’s a little occupied to be worried much about how frequently he visits – he digs his fingers into Ryder’s waist a little more and deliberately guides him in the next roll of his hips and Ryder moans into his ear, dropped low enough they’re basically only grinding together, the bulge of Ryder’s cock pressing against Geoff’s and his thighs hot on either side of him.

Ryder’s hand slips from Geoff’s shoulder to press on his chest, his face inching closer until his scruff tickles Geoff’s cheek and his other hand disappears to cup himself, his thumb rubbing over the bulge in teasing circles, fingers tucked underneath it and Geoff’s cheeks _cramp_ with the rush of spit that floods in. His hips twitch up the tiniest amount and Ryder coughs out another rough noise, shamelessly pressing them together now.

Geoff closes his eyes and pants openly between them, only _barely_ resisting the urge to touch himself – real fuckin’ difficult when he's got Ryder practically rutting against him, his arm shifting in jerky movements as he touches himself.

“Oh,” Ryder gasps.

“ _Oh_ ,” he moans, and Geoff’s head spins at the sound of that low voice, so caught up in it he almost doesn't notice how Ryder's thighs briefly jerk against his, suddenly tight around him and relaxed a second later.

“God,” Geoff pants, intoxicated by the weight of Ryder on him, the heat of him under his palms as Ryder rolls his hips down again and sends shivers up Geoff’s spine, his toes curling in his shoes as he tugs Ryder into a slightly rougher rhythm, desperate and pushing the limits of what Ryder’ll allow – which seems to be a lot, a lot more than Geoff thought he would but like hell is he _complaining_.

Just as something threatening orgasm starts creeping up Geoff’s spine, Ryder grunts and lays his hand on Geoff’s shoulder to pull back and look at him – Geoff cracks open an eye and stifles a whimper at how flushed Ryder is, cheeks pink and eyes bright as he pants heavily, a sheen of sweat across his chest and the swathes of sequins over his hips glittering in the lounge light.

Ryder smirks lazily, _knowingly_ , and rolls his hips down against Geoff’s erection – a strangled noise slips from Geoff’s throat and Ryder repeats the move, pinning him in place with his gaze, hyper-focused like he knows all of Geoff’s dirty little secrets. Like he knows he's one of them.

Geoff’s just about to open his mouth to beg when Ryder leans forward, sitting himself and more of his weight on Geoff’s crotch.

“Mm, looks like your time’s up,” Ryder says. “And I’ve got somewhere to be.”

Geoff groans and shuts his eyes, torn between jealousy at Ryder’s next client and rationality. He's got somewhere to be as well – a jewellery store hit with Michael and Ryan in Vespucci – but he's _seriously_ considering being late to his own job.

“Can't reschedule them?” He jokes – half-jokes, a hopeful little lilt to his voice. Ryder laughs pleasantly and tips Geoff’s chin up with a finger.

“Not this one,” he says. Grins. “My boss wouldn't like it.”

“Fuck your boss.”

Ryder simply laughs.

\-- 

“Armour? Geoff, how much armour ya want?”

Geoff shrugs.

“I dunno, ask Gavin. It’s his plan.”

Michael sighs and turns around to look at Ryan in the backseat – Ryan signs something with a swift gesture and Michael cocks an eyebrow.

“Ryan says highest.” A pause. “Says knowing Gav, we’ll need it – good point, Ryan.”

Geoff lifts his eyes to the rearview mirror to watch Ryan respond, idly studying the lines of the everpresent mask when Ryan suddenly stops and swivels his head to meet Geoff’s eyes in the mirror. Michael turns back to counting money in his lap and Ryan signs a question to Geoff.

_Aren’t you supposed to be getting your boat?_

“It’s not _my_ boat,” Geoff counters.

 _Fine, the_ mayor’s _boat, then_

“Aren’t you supposed to be – doing something.”

_Nope_

“Fuckin’ - why does Gavin like you so much anyway.”

_Must be my charm_

Geoff snorts good-naturedly and Ryan laughs quietly in the backseat, shoulders shaking with amusement.

“Can’t believe I let him plan something,” Geoff sighs, dragging a hand over his face. “This is gonna be a dis _as_ ter.”

“You let him,” Michael points out with a snicker, stuffing bills into a money clip. “You got B on standby, right?”

“Yeah,” Geoff says, tipping his head back against the headrest. “Texted Trevor the moment Gavin told us the plan.”

“Oi! Why don’t you believe in me, Geoffrey?” Comes from the backseat, startling both Geoff and Michael – Geoff jumps enough for his sunglasses to fall off his face, scrambling for them in his lap. They whip around to find Ryan lounging casually against the seats, his phone balancing carefully on his knee, Gavin’s name lit up on the screen.

“You traitor!” Geoff exclaims, leaning in to swipe the phone away – Ryan picks it up moments before he can and laughs when Geoff tries again, holding it annoyingly out of his reach.

“I fucking – you’re _fired_ ,” Geoff growls, staring Ryan down as Michael giggles beside him, clutching his chest while he wheezes with delirious laughter.

“Geoffrey – Geoffrey, I just want to know why – Jeremy, _no_ – Geoff, why don’t you think this’ll work?”

“You know what? Show me the launchers and maybe I’ll believe in it again,” Geoff says, snickering at Gavin’s splutter.

“They’re not coming until Tuesday! You know how the bloody post is.”

“Post?!” Michael screeches, turning around to talk to the phone. “Gav, you _didn’t_ order launcher parts through the post!”

“It’s quicker,” Gavin replies shortly.

“Gavin!”

“You know what, I have to go – I’ll see you at home, yeah?”

“ _Gavin_!”

“Bye, Ryan!”

\--  

This time Ryder leads Geoff _past_ the VIP Lounge, his grip on his wrist firm as he walks him to a hallway, faded doors with bright brassy numbers stuck on them all in a row and bouncers scattered between them.

The backrooms.

Okay so maybe Geoff made a little habit of visiting a strip club and _maybe_ he made the VIP lounge another bad habit but there's no way – there's _no_ way Ryder’s bringing him back here for what customers _usually_ do back here.

The numbers on door 02 rattle as they pass, accompanied by a thump and a moan and Geoff’s cheeks flush hot, his feet helplessly following Ryder. He’d stop this shit right here except – except he's curious. Wonders a little if Ryder’s trying to get him for his money, maybe this is where he strangles Geoff with a single stocking and leaves no fingerprints and -

Ryder stops outside of a door, his hand slipping from Geoff’s wrist to boldly hook two fingers in his waistband and tug him in while he opens the door. The bouncer gives them a glance and Ryder smiles sweetly, leading Geoff in before poking his head out to talk to said bouncer.

“Twenty minutes,” the bouncer says gruffly.

“Half an hour,” Ryder says instead. “He's good.”

“Club rules.”

Ryder huffs out a sigh and steps out to face the bouncer, slipping out some of the bills from his waistband and folding them into the bouncer’s hand.

“Half an hour,” he says again, dropping his voice flirtatiously low. “You can manage that, right?”

Geoff doesn't hear the bouncer’s response, too low and gruff, and Ryder matches it with a sweet laugh, talking in quiet tones and surely tricking his way into extra time. Whatever it is, he steps back in soon enough, closing the door behind him and locking it with a swift flick of his fingers before he’s back on Geoff, carefully backing him towards – a chair, Geoff realises with a glance, and he only barely trips when Ryder pushes him down on it.

Ryder grins and Geoff automatically moves his arms to free up his lap but instead of straddling him, Ryder drops to his knees instead, crowding in between Geoff’s legs and confidently pushing his thighs wider, his hands roaming boldly up to Geoff’s hips to rest over his fly.

“Wait, wait, what – what are you doing?” Geoff babbles – Ryder stops, cocks an eyebrow, his thumb pressing just over Geoff’s button.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Ryder asks, his hands falling away to rest on Geoff’s thighs instead. A slow smirk tugs up the side of his mouth. “Jus’ wanna show some appreciation.”

“Wh – Why?” Geoff breathes. Ryder pushes himself up to stand, leaning in until their noses are touching.

“’Cause,” he says. “I like you.” And presses the most fleeting of kisses to Geoff’s cheek. “And I wanna do this.”

“Fuck,” Geoff whispers, wholly taken aback by the sudden change of pace, by the next sweet kiss planted on his jaw. Ryder’s answering chuckle is dirty and _deep_ , rumbling through Geoff’s bones as Ryder settles on his knees again.

“Any objections?” Ryder asks, and Geoff looks down at the sight of him between his legs, gorgeous and _willing_ , and helplessly shakes his head, so captivated by the way Ryder touches him to think that maybe this isn’t a good idea.

Screw good ideas. He tossed those out the window _weeks_ ago, he thinks.

With that permission, Ryder tugs Geoff closer to the edge of the seat, getting him closer for a better position to boldly press his mouth over the bulge in Geoff’s trousers and glance up with those ever-pretty blue eyes.

Geoff’s brain short-circuits almost _immediately_. His fingers curl around the armrests and Ryder just chuckles again, the vibration running through Geoff’s cock and making his skin tingle under the sudden tightness of the cloth.

Ryder watches him with an almost _predatory_ gaze, pinning Geoff in place with simply that as he smoothly unbuckles Geoff’s belt, pops the button with a slow push. Keeping his eyes up, Ryder leans in to snag the zipper with his teeth, tugging it down with no help from his hands at all and it is _incredibly_ clear this isn’t his first time doing this sort of thing.

The moment Geoff’s fly is open, Ryder noses against his briefs, planting a few hot kisses over the bulge before deftly slipping his hand into the slit to take Geoff out, giving him a few strokes to get him fully hard.

Out of what seems like nowhere but is more likely the waistband of Ryder’s panties, Ryder procures a familiar foil square, flipping it over his knuckles before bringing it up to his mouth and ripping it open with his teeth – all the air punches out of Geoff at the sight and Ryder easily rolls it on him, discarding the wrapper on the floor and leaning in to lick over the head. Geoff groans at the touch, hot through the latex, and Ryder rolls his tongue against the slit, jacking him slowly as he teases him.

Ryder rests the tip of Geoff’s cock against his lower lip and reaches up to grab his wrist, guiding his hand over to thread through his hair – Geoff obediently settles his palm against the curve of Ryder’s skull, fingers curling through the strands a little.

“Don’t pull,” Ryder warns – Geoff nods and Ryder relaxes under him, mouthing briefly over the head of his dick before dropping his jaw to sink down on him, smooth as silk.

Geoff only merely touches the back of Ryder’s throat before Ryder pulls back up, lips tight and tongue loose, dragging the flat of it up the underside and moaning to give Geoff a vibration before sliding back down. A tight, high little noise escapes Geoff as he shifts in the chair, resisting the urge to grip Ryder’s hair and fuck up into his mouth – Ryder rewards him with a pointed suck on the head, pushing the tip of his tongue over the slit and glancing up to watch Geoff’s reaction.

Ryder continues with a few slow circuits like that, hot and definitely wet- _sounding_ , but it’s a neat blowjob for the most part, Ryder not even choking when Geoff hits his throat. He tilts his head to push out his cheek and Geoff groans at the sight, biting his lip to try and contain himself while Ryder seems to _smirk_ around his cock.

Geoff’s so settled into the rhythm, hot tension tingling through his muscles and building up in his balls, that when Ryder slides down he almost instinctively tugs him up to follow it, but this time Ryder slides down _more_ , his throat relaxing and jaw slackening as he takes the head into his throat with practised ease – Geoff moans loudly at the feeling, tight and smooth around him, and Ryder sucks in a breath through his nose, popping off to bob quicker on him.

“Fuck,” Geoff gasps shakily, struggling to keep his hips still – Ryder helpfully pins them in place with one hand and the sheer _strength_ in that makes Geoff twitch against his tongue. Ryder’s other hand leaves Geoff’s dick to snake down – towards _himself_ , Geoff realises, too far down for Geoff to see, but Ryder’s _definitely_ touching himself, his arm jerking in minute movements as a tiny moan vibrates through Geoff’s cock again.

The blowjob gets messier after that, Ryder eagerly sinking down to deepthroat Geoff and only choking a little when he does it too fast, panting hard through his nose as his whole _body_ moves to meet his own hand, shoulders flexing with the effort of keeping Geoff still and getting himself off at the same time.

“Shit – fuck, m’close,” Geoff pants, a high moan threading through his voice when Ryder’s eyes snap up to him again, wet in the corners to match the drool starting to leak out of the corners of his mouth. He nods a little and withdraws his hand from Geoff’s hip to jack the last few inches of him once more, keeping his tongue and a very very slight scrape of his teeth on the head – Geoff jumps at the hint of the teeth and breathlessly gasps out Ryder’s name.

He’d tip his head back if he could bear to look away but as it is, Geoff’s gaze is glued to Ryder, to the way his lips are stretched around his dick, pink enough to match the flush on his cheeks. It occurs to Geoff that this is probably the clearest lighting he’s ever _seen_ Ryder in, and it hits him that his eyes are really _that_ blue, that their shade isn’t neon-accented or VIP Lounge yellow-tinged, and that’s more or less the last coherent thought he has before he comes, spitting out curses and his shoulders curling in on themselves as he shoots into the condom, right against Ryder’s tongue.

Ryder groans around him and pulls off the moment Geoff’s done, pressing his forehead to Geoff’s thigh as frantic moans tumble out of him, getting breathier and breathier as his arm moves faster, and he squeezes his eyes shut moments before he locks up with a pinched noise, rocking into his hand and trembling finely all over, his shoulders quivering with his orgasm.

“ _God_ ,” Geoff mutters, bringing up his other hand to settle it over Ryder’s neck, his fingers resting just over the hot _thudthud_ of his pulse and over the flush crawling up the skin. Ryder’s eyes flutter open when he’s stopped shaking quite so much, his throat working under Geoff’s palm to swallow thickly.

“Still got ten minutes,” Ryder says, his voice rough and – and _fucked out_ , raspy from having Geoff’s cock shoved down his throat.

“Too late for me to return the favour?” Geoff quips, and Ryder chuckles against his leg.

“Haven’t got another condom.”

Geoff sucks in a breath at the implication, that Ryder would _let_ him return the favour, and instead of responding, he urges Ryder up with the grip on his neck, clumsily pulling him to straddle his lap and he notes with a brief spark of satisfaction that some of Ryder’s fingers are shiny when they fall away from himself. The panties are a dark, deep purple and obscured by the shadow of Ryder’s body, but Geoff still picks out what he thinks is a wet spot – before he can stare too long, fingers tip up his chin and Ryder’s breath ghosts over his lips. Geoff only has a moment to suck in a breath before Ryder’s kissing him, softer than Geoff would have expected, his scruff catching against Geoff’s as they move.

The fingers on Geoff’s chin slip away to cup his cheek instead and Geoff settles his other hand over Ryder’s waist, gasping for air between the slow kisses they share, oddly gentle after what they’ve just done – Geoff can still feel the evidence, for god’s sakes, Ryder’s lips puffy and swollen against his.

If you had told Geoff mere months ago that he’d be sitting in a backroom at a strip club making out with a stripper in his lap, he’d probably have laughed in your face.

But now? Now he just pulls said stripper closer and kisses back.

\-- 

Sometimes, Geoff wishes he was back on his own. Solo jobs, solo running, no fucking – blue-eyed strippers with deep voices and _definitely_ no assholes running around like headless chickens -

“Go right!”

Geoff yanks the wheel and Gavin reloads breathlessly, leaning out the window to shoot back as Jeremy shouts over speakerphone.

“Fucking _SWAT_ is here!”

“We’ll have to ditch it,” Geoff says. “Gav, they’ll know the truck’s us, we have to ditch it.”

“No!” Gavin exclaims, ducking back in under a barrage of bullets. “Not yet!”

“We have to go, we’re getting fucking chased down!” Geoff yells back, spinning the car to follow Jeremy’s unwieldy turns in the fire engine.

“J – Lil J, listen to me,” Gavin says, picking up the phone and giving Geoff a look before speaking all in a rush. “The computer – the little screen by the radio, yeah, _that_ , there’s a panel under it – take it off.”

“How am I supposed to do _that_?! I’m driving!”

“Screwdriver?”

“Gavin!”

“I dunno! Bloody hell, I thought we’d be out of here by now – use the emergency hammer, that should smash it well enough.”

“Gavin, what the hell are you doing?” Geoff asks, eyeing him warily.

“Trust me,” Gavin says – Geoff scoffs but nods, glancing above them to see a familiar chopper hover into view.

“Jack’s got our backs,” Geoff announces. “Thank _fuck_.”

“Okay got it, Gav.”

“Mess of wires, right? Red one, follow it, should get you a black chip.”

There’s a terrifying moment of silence where the fire engine swerves in front of them – Jeremy screams over the phone and settles back down once he straightens the vehicle again, panting loudly on the other side.

“Okay, black chip? I think I’ve found it.”

“’S got green and yellow wires, right? Nothin’ else?”

“It’s, uh – _fuck_ , they’re cutting me off - ”

“Go through them,” Geoff orders.

“They’re SWAT vans, I can’t!”

“Jeremy! Chip - ”

“I’m a _little_ busy trying not to fucking crash, Gavin!”

“The chip!” Gavin repeats, flinging an arm out to catch himself on the dashboard. “Green and yellow?”

“What – _yes_ , Gavin, yeah, I think. Geoff, I’m going left.”

“No, go straight,” Gavin replies, cutting off anything Geoff was going to say.

“There’s a blockade!”

“Do what Geoff said, cut them off – J, the chip.”

“Yeah, the fuckin’ chip, what _about_ it?” Jeremy grunts. Geoff peers around the fire engine to see the blockade at the end of the straightaway, heavy black SWAT vans lined up across the road. What worries him more are the guns aimed _right_ at them.

Geoff’s never letting Gavin plan anything ever again.

“Pull it out!” Gavin shouts.

“What - ”

“Just _do_ it!”

A grunt and then - “Yeah, what now?”

Gavin shrugs at Geoff.

“Bail, I guess,” he says.

“You _guess_?!”

“Jeremy, drift,” Geoff snaps.

“Geoff?”

“You heard me,” Geoff insists. “Ram them sideways, we’ll pick you up while they’re distracted.”

“I regret joining this crew,” Jeremy bites out, and the fire engine’s wheels turn sharply.

“Keep the chip, Jeremy,” Gavin reminds him. Jeremy grunts in acknowledgement and Geoff brakes just as the fire engine coasts over to slam into SWAT vans.

The collision sends one van sailing down the road, crashes bodily into a group of cops and bullets _immediately_ rain upon it, a ceaseless volley that drowns out the sound of Geoff’s own engine as he races up to the cab’s side, waiting for Jeremy to clamber out – Jeremy stumbles out and dives for the door, flinging himself in the backseat just as the cops come around to fire at them. Geoff revs the engine and speeds off as fast as he can, fishtailing wildly around stopped traffic to lead the authorities on a chase.

“What the fuck?!” Jeremy shouts.

“Michael, we’re out,” Gavin says into – Geoff glances over to see Gavin talking into his _own_ phone, tossing Geoff a cheeky wink as explosions _boom_ behind them, heavy chopper gatling guns raining down on the blockade. Geoff looks up to see two more choppers joining Jack’s – Michael and Ryan, by the looks of it – and only barely resists the urge to slap the wheel.

“I fucking _hate_ you,” Geoff sighs, shaking his head as he swerves around another corner, cutting it maybe a _bit_ too sharply just to make Gavin yelp and scramble to catch himself – Jeremy groans in the backseat and kicks out as well, hand flying out to grip Geoff’s headrest.

“So what the fuck was all that for?!” Jeremy shouts. Gavin reaches back for the chip and Jeremy slaps it into his palm, glaring at him as Gavin flips the chip over his knuckles and right between his fingertips, holding it up in the sunlight streaming through the car, speckled with sirens of the cars that chase after them.

“This, Jeremy, is a tracker,” Gavin says smugly, grinning slyly at him. “We didn’t - ”

“We didn’t need the truck,” Jeremy sighs at the same time, slumping back against the seats. “Great! Could have told me that _before_ – ”

“I thought you’d make it out!”

“Well I _didn’t_ – ”

“Make up later!” Geoff snaps, glancing at the cops on their tail. “Get those assholes off us.”

“Yessir,” Gavin says with a lazy salute, cocking his gun and leaning out the window to shoot again – Jeremy reaches for the carbine kept under the seats, clicking in a new clip and rolling down the glass to do the same.

\-- 

“Hey J?”

“Yeah, Gav?”

“Sorry ‘bout the truck.”

“Nah dude, it’s fine, you got me, right?”

“Yeah, ‘course!”

“Then we’re good.”

\-- 

Geoff foolishly, perhaps even _naïvely_ , thought that maybe his little fascination with Ryder might disappear after – well, after last time, but it seems just as strong as ever, drenching him in waves of arousal as he presses his mouth to the pillow and ruts against his palm, greedily replaying the memory of Ryder’s tongue on him and gasping when his cock twitches against his fingers, pre-come seeping out to stain his sheets a little.

Instead of dampening his fantasies, it only _heightens_ them, makes him hot and bothered late at night when he should be _sleeping_ but is too stressed and too worked up to settle down. When it’s easier to lazily stir himself up in the hopes the release will relax him enough to drift off but somewhere along the line his mind got overactive and now he’s jacking off to the memory of Ryder’s filthy moans, gorgeous and deep and doing a pretty shit job of pushing away thoughts of the crew.

 _The crew_.

Geoff sighs in frustration and flops on his back, his libido violently dwindling when he dwells on thoughts of the goddamn _crew_ again, of his part of the job he’s got to pull off – the _mayor’s_ speedboat! In broad daylight! – and it’s a miracle he isn’t soft in his fist when he starts thinking about everyone else’s jobs, how Michael’s spray-painting vehicles and Gavin and Jeremy are assembling weapons and bombs and how Jack’s helping with the speedboat operation and Ryan’s probably bundling in to help on that too; Geoff wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up tomorrow just at the right time with an overpowered getaway car and far too much ammo on his hands and –

And just like that, his libido spikes again, drawn up from the depths of darkness so suddenly that his skin thrills hot under his palm, a gasp slipping unbidden from him as the mere _thought_ of Ryan’s dark, knowing chuckle heats him up from the inside out.

Get it fucking _together_ Ramsey. He’s your goddamn employee.

Still, as his hand drags up and down in lazy strokes, keeping himself interested while he tries to fixate on anything, _anything_ else, even the thoughts of Ryder, poured on his lap and kissing him as deep as he likes, he ends up hooked on the sound of Ryan’s voice, from what little he’s heard, hooked on the confident way he handles _everything_ to the fluid way he signs, smooth and strong and _god_ Ramsey get your _goddamn_ head _out_ of the gutter.

Geoff pauses. Thinks.

Fuck it, he’s not going to get to sleep if he keeps this up. One time can’t hurt, right?

And just like that, Geoff’s back to pressing a hand to his mouth, shutting his eyes and pretending that Ryan doesn’t live _two goddamn doors down_ while he jerks off to the thought of Ryan’s fingers doing something much dirtier than signing.

\-- 

“So you’ll get the boat and I’ll distract the cops?” Geoff murmurs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Thought you were supposed to drive the damn boat,” Jack mutters, chuckling when Geoff makes a little _eh_ noise, shrugging a shoulder.

“You’re better at water,” he says. “Unless you want to take the cops?”

“No, no, I’m good, I am _good_ ,” Jack laughs, looking out at the near-deserted pavement. “We’re clear.”

Geoff sighs and hangs his head, pushing his sunglasses up on his nose before he looks around as well, touches the grip of his SMG under his jacket to comfort himself. It’s a _sweltering_ day in Los Santos, tourists out in full-force and crowds flocking to the beaches – Geoff eyes Jack’s shorts with jealously and thinks of the sweat stains he’s about to leave in his suit, which he only _really_ needs to hide all the fucking body armour he’s wearing because he’ll be damned if he goes down just _prepping_ for Gavin’s heist. Fucker would laugh his totty little ass off.

But the hot day means the pavements in this particular area are emptier, all the residents heading out to enjoy the sun or hiding inside to escape it and there, at the end of the lochs and behind a bridge, the mayor’s second home, and a bright, beautiful speedboat docked neatly beside it.

Man, Geoff can’t wait for this to hit the news.

“Where’s your car?” Jack asks.

“My car?”

“Yeah, you know, your _escape_?”

“Uh, somewhere,” Geoff says, deliberately avoiding Jack’s gaze to look out at the peaceful water.

“ _Somewhere_?”

“Yeah, y’know, in one of these driveways or something - ”

“You’re going to steal one, aren’t you.”

“Look, Michael dropped me off, okay, I ain’t got time to set up a whole shebang - ”

“ _Geoff_ ,” Jack laughs, dropping his head into his hand. “Christ Almighty – you got Ryan on speeddial, right?”

“Won’t need ‘im,” Geoff says confidently, sitting back and tugging once on his jacket lapels. “Ready when you are.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Yep.”

Jack stands up with a grunt, slapping Geoff’s hand in a quick goodbye before ambling off down the pavement, hands in his pockets and whistling a cheerful tune, one that fades away the farther he gets until Geoff’s left with the distant screaming of beachgoers and the lapping of the water.

The peace lasts for about sixty seconds before an alarm wails – the bright, beautiful speedboat starts backing out and Geoff sighs, plucking off his sunglasses and tucking them into his shirt.

One, two -

And _there_ are the sirens, and _then_ Geoff pushes up to start running.

\-- 

It’s a good goddamn thing Geoff wore the body armour because the first two bullets fired at him definitely _hit_ , smack in the centre of his chest and winding him so badly he’s still trying to catch his breath, and he’s not sure if skin or even _bones_ are broken but he doesn’t really care because he’s been running for fifteen minutes and the cops are practically _swarming_ in, cars pulling up and groups sweeping through to search every corner of suburbia.

Geoff almost laughs, squeezing the grip of his gun and peeking out from his hidey corner to watch the cops bark orders, kicking open gates and trampling through bushes. They’re a full reckoning force here, although in hindsight maybe Geoff should have expected that. It was the _mayor’s_ boat, after all.

But Jack and boat escaped with no more than a few dings from private security – easy enough to take care of from across the water, even if they did shoot back and hit him hard enough to make his phone fly out of his hand and plop right into the fucking water.

In his defence, faking a phone call is a good blending-in tactic. And _maybe_ he should have pocketed it real quick or something but he was a little busy getting shot in the damn _chest_ to deal with it.

At least that’s approximately what he’ll say when Gavin inevitably asks for the burner back.

 _Anyway_.

Geoff grits his teeth and steps out to spray bullets into an engine block – the cops turn en masse to spot him and open fire – but not before he manages to explode one of the cars, ducking back behind his alley as the vehicle _booms_ and screaming erupts and –

A car drifts around the corner facing him and he reflexively shoots for the windshield – the bullets bounce but they do start shattering it, and Geoff’s about to unload another round into the apparently bulletproof glass when the car brakes and the passenger door swings open to reveal the barrel of a gun.

A bullet pops off right by Geoff’s feet and he yelps – and spies the familiar Vagabond mask, and frowns as Ryan gestures for him to get in.

More bullets pepper the ground, this time from the other direction, and Geoff dives into the car, hastily pulling the door shut as Ryan guns the car into a harsh 180, kicking up red tyre smoke and leaving the cops in the proverbial dusts.

“Why the fuck did you shoot at me?!” Geoff exclaims, peering out the tinted windows to await the cops that must _surely_ be on their tail. Ryan drops the gun and waves at the cracked windshield, shooting Geoff a pointed glare.

“I was in a fight! I didn’t know if you were friendly or not!”

Ryan shakes his head in _that_ way and Geoff can almost _see_ him rolling his eyes even though all he can actually see is the scuffed side of the rubber mask. Ryan signs something with one hand.

“I was doing fine,” Geoff dismisses. Ryan reaches over to gently smack Geoff’s chest and Geoff winces, shoving his hand away.

“Focus on the driving, will ya?” He says.

 _We’ll lose them soon_ , Ryan signs. And Geoff can see they’re eating up the road, going so fast the white stripes become just a white _line_ , and the distance between them and their tail is increasing by the second.

“Thank fuck,” Geoff sighs, relaxing a little against the seat.

_You’re welcome_

Geoff rolls his eyes.

“Jack fuckin’ sent you, didn’t he?”

_I plead the fifth_

“Fuck you. Fuck _Jack_. I had it under control.”

Ryan swats his chest again.

“ _Fuck you_ ,” Geoff hisses.

\-- 

To the Vagabond’s credit, he settles them up in one of the nicer safehouses in Vespucci, the one with the balcony with the gorgeous view of Los Santos – secretly one of Geoff’s favourite safehouses. And he helps Geoff clean up – despite Geoff’s grumbling and his insistence on doing it himself, the moment he gets the body armour off and sees the splotching bruises on his chest, Ryan takes over, gently sitting him on the closed toilet and running his very warm, very _capable_ hands over his ribs to test for breaks. It sends a little zap of something up Geoff’s spine that he doesn’t want to acknowledge quite now, pairs with the knowledge that if the mask was off he’d only have to lean up an inch to close the gap and -

And whoa _hold_ _those_ _fucking horses_ , Ramsey.

It’s either the sharp scent of antiseptic or the sudden, intense, very newfound attraction to the Vagabond that’s making Geoff’s head spin, probably both, maybe neither, maybe it’s the pain thudding dully through his body from his chest to his aching arms to the sting of disinfectant to the gentle pressure of Ryan’s hands and _how long has this been a_ thing _for Geoff_.

Geoff could be bothered to trace it back, maybe to when Ryan started out, all that time ago – or maybe when he started settling in, bantering with the rest of them and signing as easily as he loads a weapon – or maybe back when they were first alone together, in a safehouse a lot like this with an injury almost as bad – or maybe – or maybe –

Geoff doesn’t want to think about it. Maybe later, when he’s alone. But he’s not about to have this crisis here and now, not when Ryan’s taping bandage over his chest and signing that he doesn’t have any breaks but still take it easy – Geoff doesn’t realise he’s ducked his head until a finger tips his chin up, forcing him to meet Ryan’s eyes, shadowed by the mask.

 _You okay?_ Ryan signs, his eyes crinkled in concern – Geoff smiles crookedly and nods.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for patching me up,” he says, reaching to the counter for his tattered shirt and frowning at the holes in it.

Ryan wordlessly steps out of the bathroom and returns thirty seconds later with a balled-up T-shirt, tossing it at Geoff. It smells stale, and a little musty, but Geoff accepts it, thanking Ryan with a quick gesture before he tugs it on.

 _I told Jack you’re fine_ , Ryan signs, leaning casually against the doorway.

“Gav’s gonna kick my fucking ass if he finds out I got shot,” Geoff groans, standing up to stretch and grunting at the _ache_.

_He won’t find out_

“Aren’t you two butt buddies or whatever? Tell each other everything?”

Ryan scoffs and laughs, shaking his head.

_It can be our secret_

“If you say so,” Geoff replies with a grin, raking a hand through his hair. “Now hey, there’s a good Chinese place nearby, wanna order takeout?”

_You’re paying_

“Fine with me.” 

\-- 

Okay, _okay_ , so maybe the whole Ryder thing escalated and maybe Geoff played right into it and maybe – okay, yeah, he has no more excuses left for how it’s escalated _now_ , when he locked eyes with Ryder across the club and let him take his wrist and Ryder led him past the stalls and _way_ past the private rooms and the details are unimportant except for how Ryder pulled Geoff in to kiss him and it tumbled from there and now they’re outside, in the dim little alleyway outside the club and Geoff’s biting at Ryder’s lower lip while he pins him to the brick.

And Ryder _lets_ Geoff pin him, gives it up so easily when Geoff shoves a thigh between his to let him grind down on it and grips at Geoff’s jacket with such fervour it’s impossible to even _want_ to pull away. Geoff’s hands are carefully settled on Ryder’s waist but Ryder shoves at his wrist with an impatient grunt, urging his hands up to roam wherever he likes, splay over his shoulder, his back, feel the flex of muscle in his bicep when Ryder hooks an arm around Geoff’s neck and groans into his mouth.

“Fuck, wanna – wanna – ” Geoff breaks away with a thick swallow and drops his hands to Ryder’s hips, tucking his fingertips under the waist. “Wanna get my mouth on you,” he settles on, chasing Ryder for more greedy kisses as Ryder moans and nods.

Geoff gets to his knees quickly, almost a straight drop that makes his bones throb dully but he ignores it to kiss Ryder’s thigh, looking up at him as Ryder threads a hand into his hair.

“How long you got?” Geoff asks.

“Fifteen minutes,” Ryder pants, cursing breathlessly when Geoff curls his fingers into the waistband of his panties, a deep, flattering burgundy this time – but before Geoff can yank them down, Ryder gasps out a _stop, stop – wait, just –_ and locks eyes with him once more, his cheeks flushed and hair mussed from where Geoff’s hands have been in it.

“’M not - ” Ryder starts, and swallows. Tips his head back against the wall. “ _Donthavewhatyoureexpecting_.”

“What?” Geoff asks slowly, trying to decipher what that rush of breath was. Ryder sighs through his nose and his fingers flex in Geoff’s hair.

“I don’t have what you’re expecting,” he forces out, slower, meets Geoff’s eyes again and reaches down to encourage Geoff to pull the panties down – to Geoff’s initial horror, the bulge moves _with_ the panties until he realises a second later it’s not attached to Ryder at all, rather to the cloth, and _oh_ now he sees what Ryder’s talking about.

“Oh,” he says, tugging the panties down to Ryder’s thighs and ghosting his hands up to cup Ryder’s hips.

Okay so maybe Ryder doesn’t exactly have the sort of dick that would choke Geoff and ruin his voice for a day, but he isn’t Geoff’s first trans partner, and it _really_ doesn’t stop the arousal hot in his crotch, the spit pooling under his tongue as he catches sight of -

“Is that a _piercing_?” He asks, eyeing the little glint of metal poking out either side of Ryder’s dick, sapphire studs on the ends of the barbell. Ryder laughs – a little relieved, a little smug – and curls his fingers in Geoff’s hair.

“Yeah,” he says. “You seem like you’re good with your tongue.”

“Fuck,” Geoff breathes – goes to touch, and pauses, glancing up once more as his thumb hovers over neatly trimmed hair. “Can I touch?”

“God, _please_ ,” Ryder groans, his breath hitching when Geoff strokes his thumb down the short length, running over the barbell and over the slick coating the underside already. A weak sort of low whine leaves Ryder when Geoff does it again, boldly follows with his tongue and _that_ makes Ryder moan, full-throated and pleased, his hips twitching up to chase the sensation.

“Anywhere else?” Geoff asks, teasing his thumb down a little further to hint at what he’s indirectly asking.

“Just not inside,” Ryder replies breathlessly, relaxes against the brick when Geoff nods in understanding.

Geoff spends a few more moments petting over Ryder’s cock, gently rolling the barbell and rubbing his thumb against the base to find out what spurs the most satisfying noises, what earns him the soft gasps and the quiet groans, the buck of his hips or the careful not-pull of his hair. He pulls Ryder’s hips down a touch to spread him a little before replacing thumb with tongue and sealing his mouth over Ryder’s dick to provoke a higher noise, one that dissolves into heavy panting when Geoff gives up the teasing and goes straight for the swirling, mindful of the piercing.

Ryder moans above him and Geoff looks up the line of his body to watch his abdomen crunch up, a flush spill down his throat as he rocks eagerly into Geoff’s mouth – by Geoff’s clock, Ryder’s only got ten minutes left, and the time constraint makes him work quicker, lapping at Ryder and groaning at the bitter taste of him, venturing lower to lick at slicker parts before returning to what clearly feels best, dragging the tip of his tongue over the piercing and playing with it. Ryder groans out a guttural version of Geoff’s name and stuffs the knuckles of his other hand into his own mouth, muffling himself as he shivers and moans.

Geoff rises up more on his knees to properly suck on Ryder, bobbing the little he can – Ryder tightens up all over, his thighs trembling ever-so-slightly as he get close. Geoff scrapes his teeth over the tip of his cock and flicks his tongue over it in quick, deft motions, his nose pressed to Ryder’s skin and eyes closed while Ryder pants and moans his name.

“W – fuck, _fuck_ , gonna – ah- _ah_ – ”

Ryder comes with a broken cry, his shoulders curling in on himself as he grinds against Geoff’s face, desperate pleas falling from his lips with each strong suck, with each stroke of Geoff’s tongue over the barbell – for Geoff’s part, he happily stays right where he is, his face buried between Ryder’s legs and come smearing against his chin when he shifts. The panties and the packer press against his throat and he doesn’t even care enough to move them, pulling away to jack Ryder off with his fingers instead, quick and wet as Ryder’s shuddering turns to shivering, to trembling, until his fingers loosen in Geoff’s hair and his knees shake the tiniest amount with the next rub.

“Fuck,” Geoff says, rocking back to sit on his heels at he looks up, wiping his mouth and chin on his arm. Ryder cracks an eye open to look at him.

A moment passes, two, crystalline and teetering on the edge of _something_ before Geoff surges to his feet, clumsily bracing himself on the wall as Ryder fluidly urges him in, connecting their mouths with a hot noise that makes arousal curl in Geoff. He lets Ryder lick in all he likes, sharing the taste of himself and groaning when Geoff grinds his crotch against Ryder’s hip, so _so_ close from everything that he’s sure only a touch would get him off.

Geoff doesn’t even bother counting his sins before begging.

“Please, Ry – please - ” he gets out, but even just using Ryder’s _name_ seems to spur him into action – a hand drops down to hastily tug down Geoff’s zipper and work its way in and the fucking _moment_ Ryder’s fingers touch over the head of Geoff’s dick his knees are weak and he’s fucking _jelly_ in Ryder’s arms.

He’s sure more incoherent sentences would fall out except Ryder manages to get a grip on him and _stroke_ and tap over the slit and he’s coming with a drawn-out groan instead, hips hitching up as he shoots into his underwear and over Ryder’s fingers, messy and hot as his skin tingles and burns and sweat breaks out between his shoulder blades. He pants against Ryder’s jaw, a pathetic whimper tripping out of him when Ryder rubs a circle around the sensitive tip.

The minute that passes afterwards seems far too intense for the quite mundane act they’ve just done, sweat and come cooling on their skin and Geoff’s mouth still pressed to Ryder’s jaw, huffing out slowly-evening breaths. Ryder drags a hand up his back and turns to catch his lips in lazy kisses, humming contentedly when Geoff responds in kind.

The clean-up is leisurely – mostly on Ryder’s part, wiping his come-slick fingers on Geoff’s jeans and kindly zipping him up before pulling up his panties, hardly breaking the kiss as he adjusts the packer once more. When his hands are free, they go to Geoff, curling around his waist and into his clothes as Geoff blankets him, stealing all the kisses Ryder’ll give him in the stagnant warmth of the back alley.

“Have to go, don’t you?” Geoff mumbles, but when he tries to pull away Ryder chases him for another kiss.

“Let me worry about that,” Ryder says, huffing out a happy noise when Geoff indulges him. A couple soft kisses later and Ryder rests his forehead against Geoff’s, his eyes fluttering open to meet his.

“Thanks,” he says, a cheeky grin tugging up the side of his mouth. “I was right.”

“’Bout what?”

“You _are_ good with your mouth.”

“Shut up,” Geoff mutters, his cheeks burning under the attention. Ryder laughs lightly.

“Hafta go, though,” he says a second later, pressing another kiss to Geoff’s lips. “See ya around, Geoff.” And with that he gently pushes Geoff back.

“Hopefully sooner rather than later,” he adds, and Geoff doesn’t imagine the way Ryder’s eyes linger on his lips – but instead of kissing him, Ryder just flashes him a smile and slips away.

\-- 

“What the fuck are those?”

“What?” Geoff flexes his fingers and looks up at Michael, grinning at his narrowed-eye glare. “They’re gloves.”

“They’re a fucking eyesore.”

“Half-price,” Geoff says, waggling his fingers. Michael laughs, shaking his head as he reaches out to touch the horrendously hot pink leather.

“No wonder,” he scoffs, smacks Gavin’s back to get him to whirl around with a half-formed _wha_ -.

“ – christ, Geoffrey, you’ll get spotted a _mile_ away!” Gavin exclaims, a smile cracking on his face when Geoff just wiggles his fingers again.

“Hey, Gav!”

Gavin whirls around to answer Jeremy’s call, shouting over the racks of clothing as Geoff slips the gloves off and picks out some tamer ones – after a moment of deliberation, he pockets the pink ones as well. He glances up to see Ryan’s eyes trained on him from under the mask; they flick down to his pocket and Geoff just grins, giggling a little when Ryan shakes his head and looks over at the unsuspecting cashier.

“Gavin said all black, right?” Jack asks as he sidles up to Geoff.

“Ye – ” and the rest dissolves in laughter when Geoff looks at his shirt, a black and grey Hawaiian with two of the buttons missing and fraying at the shoulders.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Geoff gasps – across the bargain bin, Ryan’s shoulders are shaking with laughter. Jack plucks a black straw hat from the rack beside him and claps it on his head, sending Geoff into peals of laughter that only multiply when audible despair erupts from Gavin.

“Jack, what the bloody hell is _that_?”

“You said all black!”

“I mean he’s got a point, it is black.”

“Shut up, Michael, _look_ at it! It’s awful!”

Geoff chokes on his chuckling, clapping a hand to Jack’s shoulder to cling onto him while he wheezes, meeting Ryan’s eyes when he looks up. Jeremy appears from some other part of the store and breaks into riotous laughter at Jack’s outfit, and then at Gavin’s distaste, and while Michael and Jack needle Gavin, Ryan carefully moves to Jack. He reaches around and tucks a pair of sunglasses into the collar before slipping away to the rack behind Gavin – Jack jumps at the touch and withdraws the sunglasses – big, and sleek black, with a gaudy silver designer logo on the corners, tacky rhinestones peppered over the arms.

“Oh, just what I needed, thank you, Ryan!” Jack says, slipping them on to beam at them all, and send Gavin into a fit of squeaky laughter. Michael wolf-whistles, Jeremy trips into giggling, and Geoff laughs so hard tears gather in the corners of his eyes.

And while he’s wiping them away, he catches Ryan’s eye once more, locking their gazes for a brief moment while Ryan’s shoulders tremble with quiet laughter.

And before it can break, Ryan reaches out, and plucks a baseball cap out of the bargain bins on his side. Turns it in his hand. And calmly fits it backwards right over the mask before shooting Geoff a quick, playful hang loose sign that makes Geoff explode into laughter yet again.

\-- 

The night before a heist is always jittery. Especially one as big as this, with one hell of an escape plan and far too many loopholes that could go wrong.

But hey, they’re the Fakes. They’ve handled worse.

Still, nerves are thrumming through Geoff’s fingertips as he busies himself reading, skimming every other word and more aware of movement around him than the plot. Jack’s fidgety as usual, restless flicking channels on the TV, shifting on the sofa and checking his phone an inordinate amount of times.

Michael and Jeremy already left a couple hours ago – probably to the shooting range, they’re not dumb enough to get drunk on a pre-heist night. Gavin’s in his room, Geoff know, probably fiddling over the plans and whatever details he saved for himself. Ryan is – Geoff’s not actually sure, but he’s pretty positive he’s still in the penthouse.

The creak of a door makes Geoff jump, twisting to look down the hallway only to see Ryan carefully stepping out of Gavin’s room, signing something to him before closing the door completely and walking out towards the living room. Geoff drops his gaze back to his book while Ryan heads towards the kitchen.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Jack sighs, slamming the remote down and punching the power button before he stands up, running a hand through his hair. He shares a look with Geoff – Geoff nods, cracks a slight smile that Jack returns, although tension still simmers in his shoulders when he walks by.

It leaves Geoff and the rattling of the coffee machine alone. A cupboard door opens. Mugs clink.

“Are you really having coffee now?” Geoff asks, too distracted to read and too lazy to find other entertainment. The mug clinks again and the machine boils, clicks off, and then the smooth sound of pouring splashes through the living area.

A kettle simmers up and Geoff glances over the back of his chair with a frown, watching as Ryan tears open a hot chocolate packet and dumps it into another mug. Ryan spares Geoff a look over his shoulder, but aside from that, he remains focused on his work, mixing the powder into boiling water and then measuring out a hot chocolate/coffee ratio between his mugs.

“I didn’t know you used to work at Starbucks,” Geoff jokes, and Ryan’s shoulders jerk in a scoff as he turns the appliances off.

 _For Gavin_ , Ryan signs, turning around to face Geoff, one mug in hand. _You want one?_

“No thanks,” Geoff says, shaking his head. “Makes me shit.”

_Thanks_

Geoff laughs and Ryan pads out of the kitchen back to the hallway, slipping into Gavin’s room and then back out to grab the other mug and settle down on the sofa where Jack was, although he sits closer to the arm, closer to Geoff. He sighs out through his nose and sets one ankle on his other knee, reaching up to flip up the bottom of his mask as he lifts the mug – Geoff politely looks away, his eyes falling on words he’s reading but not understanding, while Ryan drinks.

When the mug clinks onto the coffee table, Geoff dares to look up again.

“How’s Gavin?” He asks. Ryan shrugs, gives a little _so-so_ gesture.

_He’ll be fine. Having a little trouble with software_

“Mm,” Geoff agrees. He sets his book down on his lap, taps his foot. “So are you ready for tomorrow?”

_Yeah. You?_

“Yeah. Yeah, I am, just – ah, it’ll be fine,” Geoff says, swallowing nervously.

_Trust Gavin_

“I do! I do.” Geoff pauses. “I mean it’s no Union Depository, but it’s still a risky hit. Right in the middle of cop central.”

Cop central, or so they’ve dubbed that particular part of downtown, so rich and gold-gilded that there’s four police stations within a ten mile radius of the joint – the hit’ll be tight, but the escape’ll be even tighter.

_Gavin knows what he’s doing_

“It’s not about Gavin,” Geoff says, laughing a little. “It’s just – eh, y’know, general worry. It’s what I do.”

Ryan seems to pause for a moment, his head turning to look at the entertainment system. Geoff glances down at his book again but the words swim. Ryan shuffles next to him, clicking something on the various remotes scattered on the coffee table.

Next thing Geoff knows, there’s a controller nudging the back of his hand. He jumps in his seat and Ryan just chuckles warmly, holding the controller out with a questioning gaze. Geoff notices the other one already in Ryan’s lap, and a moment later the TV glows to life with the Xbox screen, a gentle green washing over Ryan’s mask, casting his eyes into weird grey.

 _Want a couple races?_ Ryan signs with his free hand. Geoff smiles and ducks his head, nodding as he takes the controller from Ryan.

Geoff places his book on the coffee table before he stands up, stepping over Ryan’s legs to sit beside him on the sofa and dropping down with a sigh as Ryan flicks through Xbox menus.

_Ready?_

“I was _born_ ready,” Geoff says, and turbos right off the track in spectacular failure.

\-- 

“Hands up! This is a robbery!”

“Jesus Christ,” Geoff mutters. Jeremy flashes him a grin and shrugs, gesturing with his gun for the terrified shop clerks to move to a corner.

“Always wanted to say that,” he says.

“Well it worked,” Gavin allows, laughing as he smashes his elbow through a display case. “All right, grab and go – you two get the safe.”

While Gavin and Jeremy ransack the front of shop, Geoff and Ryan head to the back, stomping past the huddle of shop clerks and the two cowering customers, bottom lips quivering as they watch them stomp past.

By Gavin’s count, they’ve got four minutes before police show up.

Ryan tries the handle – locked – and backs up with a huff. Geoff aims his gun at it but then Ryan’s foot goes through the door with a tremendous _crash_ , sending splinters flying and bashing the metal handle and with the next kick it swings wide open – Geoff stares, dumbstruck for a split second, and then Ryan storms in, barely out of fucking breath as he drops to a knee in front of the safe.

“Cops’re coming,” Michael says in his ear. “Give it two minutes.”

“I give it less,” Jack chimes in, and Geoff scoffs as Ryan clicks open the safe and flings the door open, gesturing for the duffle bag. Geoff drops it and watches while Ryan loads it – with gems, with money, with very very valuable jewellery cases that he just tosses in, careless and quick, and it all only seems to take a moment before –

The store alarm suddenly blares, high pitched and _squealing_ and Geoff can hear Gavin yelling on the outside.

“All right, who bloody pulled it, then?! That wasn’t necessary, was it?!”

Either way, police sirens are wailing down the street – Ryan slams the safe shut and zips the bag, shoulders it before standing up and following Geoff out. Gavin’s waving his gun around the civilians, scaring them to no end but Geoff knows he won’t shoot, won’t unless someone forces his hand, and at this rate it’ll be the cops that do that.

“All right, let’s go!” Jeremy shouts, zipping another duffel and beckoning them to the door.

Okay, so that was the easy part.

What Geoff’s dreading it the next part.

And, true to his dread, just as they crash through the front doors, cop cars squeal to a halt, bullets flying through the windows and ricocheting off of brick – they dodge and shoot back and Gavin and Jeremy start _sprinting_ to their alleyway – if Geoff’s focuses, he can hear the growl of Michael’s engine in there.

A bullet whizzes right by Geoff’s face and Ryan _yanks_ him out of the line of fire, urging him into a run that makes Geoff’s lungs burn, bullets taking chunks out of the wall behind them and one grazing Geoff’s leg, another hurtling to ping off of Ryan’s gun in fortuitous chance.

“Jack, you ready?!” Geoff yells – Jack gives an affirmative in his ear and Ryan ducks down an alleyway, leading Geoff around a damn maze of downtown before they reach the canals, sirens whoop-whooping behind them and an impressive number of officers following on foot, thankfully held back by the occasional twist and shoot –

Geoff gets slammed into a wall and drops his gun – quick enough to grab the cop’s wrist but they knee him in the abdomen and he doubles over with a groan, weakened again for them to punch him right in the fucking _ribs_ , thoroughly winding him – across the alley he sees Ryan in his own fight, a knife worryingly close to his neck.

Geoff grunts and shoves his hand to the cop’s throat in a crude chokehold, digging his fingernails in and pressing until the guy chokes and his arm spasms, giving Geoff room to push him back and punch him square in the jaw, follow it up with a boot to the ribs that gives a satisfying _crack_ and a yelp of pain.

Before Geoff can hit him again, the cop’s abruptly pulled away by a hand on his collar, and then Ryan’s arm appears around his throat, Ryan himself growling as he yanks back, and _yanks_ , and squeezes until the guy’s eyes roll up in the back of his head and he goes limp, collapsing to the ground when Ryan releases him, barely breathing.

“C’mon,” Ryan says gruffly, spinning a new knife in his other hand and jerking his head down the alley. Geoff doesn’t even catch his breath before he’s off, hot on Ryan’s heels as Ryan leads them to the canals, skidding to a stop on the dazzling, sunny pavement –

“There!” Geoff yells, pointing at the bright, beautiful speedboat tearing through the waves towards them, water arcing up behind it to splash on the bushes and pavement.

Geoff and Ryan break into a new sprint as Jack races up to them, cutting the engine as they dash down the stairs, stumbling a little when they emerge on the canal banks. Jack inches the boat forward and a sudden volley of bullets rips into the side, making them all duck and shout – with a new burst of energy, Geoff runs to the boat and climbs in, reaching back to help haul Ryan in as well while Jack guns the engine and _zooms_ off. The force sends Ryan crashing into Geoff and both of them end up on the floor of the boat, Geoff groaning in pain when Ryan’s weight crushes his hand uncomfortably against his chest.

Ryan pushes himself up with a grunt, clutching onto the back of one of the seats as he crouches and holds out a hand to Geoff – the boat clips the side of the canal and unbalances them again, sending them to the ground with twin yelps. Jack calls out an apology and Geoff just decides to stay on his back until they reach open water, which shouldn’t be long by now, but he can see the LSPD choppers rising in the distance.

“All right, there’s boats coming your way, Jack,” Gavin says all of a sudden, the screech of wheels and bang-bang of gunfire in his background. “Coming from pier side, four of ‘em.”

“Got it,” Jack replies, and glances back at Geoff and Ryan, who nod.

“Choppers from the east as well,” Gavin says. “Michael, turn right – turn _right_! – Jeremy, two cars around next left.”

When they break into open water, Geoff dares to get up, scrambling to the weapons case beside Ryan as ocean water splashes up around them, soaks their feet and legs where it puddles on the deck and glistens on the leather. In his ear, Gavin shouts more directions, more cop locations; Michael swears and wheels skid and Jeremy’s voice rings through after a barrage of explosions that send them all screaming – but alive, Geoff figures out a moment later, bickering and shrieking but _alive_ , and Gavin breathlessly babbles out more locations to Jack – four boats, four choppers, all from the east but catching up quick even as Jack turns west.

“Gavin, how the _fuck_ do you know where they are?” Geoff asks while Ryan’s assembling a rocket launcher, his own hands hovering over the parts for a grenade launcher.

“Tracker!” Gavin chirps, breaks to spit out more rapid directions. “Hacked it back to track them! Emergency services all use the same mainframe.”

“Christ,” Geoff mutters, impressed. “Good job.”

“Thanks!” A shriek. “Michael I said go _left_!”

“There’s a fucking _construction site_ there, Gavin!”

“Yeah, go through it!”

While they bicker, and hopefully escape, Geoff snaps together a grenade launcher, hefting it up along with the belt of grenades while Ryan hauls up his rocket launcher, loading in a rocket immediately and bracing himself against the seat to fire at the boats rapidly approaching them. He misses, but the hit sends water bursting into the air, scatters the cops a little while they reload.

“You take choppers, I’ll get boats!” Geoff yells over the salty whipping wind, and Ryan nods, bracing himself again as he aims up, his cheek pressed to metal.

Geoff cautiously makes his way over to the back of the boat, aiming sloppily for the nearest cop boat and firing – the grenade bounces off the hull and explodes harmlessly in the water. Geoff grunts and tries again – a rocket whizzes up beside him, narrowly missing the whirring blades of the helicopter above them, gatling gunfire blasting into the ocean beside them and kicking up salty spray right into Geoff’s face.

The boat rocks and sways, cuts sharp right just as Geoff flings an arm out to catch himself, and he fires the launcher at the nearest boat – it lands inside, just behind the captain, and two seconds later explodes in a flash-bright burst, setting fire to the boat and the people diving off-board. One, two, and the first reaches the engine and sends the boat kicking up into midair, breaking apart where the explosion ruins the body.

A whoop of triumph reaches Geoff’s ears the same moment he spies a chopper spiralling down in the corner of his eyes, crashing spectacularly into the ocean and rippling giant, disruptive waves towards them. Geoff stumbles and regains his footing, loading a new set of grenades to take aim at the second cop boat.

“There’s two choppers closing in – ” Gavin starts.

“I can see that!” Geoff yells, glancing up at the helicopters before shooting his grenades – another boat sinks.

“All right, all right, don’t need to be mingy,” Gavin says, laughing a little at Geoff’s sigh before he goes back to directing Michael and Jeremy.

Two more choppers come down before the third boat does, their passengers parachuting towards land and away from the fight. Bullets pockmark the back of the speedboat but otherwise miss terribly, Jack’s tight turns too much for the cops to match. Geoff’s grenade cracks the windshield of the fourth boat but rolls into the water before it explodes – the second one goes way wide, splashing into the water like a rock and the explosion hardly shakes the waves. The last chopper bursts into flame above them, blades whirring and halting as the passengers scramble to jump out – it dives nose-first into the water, much _much_ closer to them. Geoff barely has time to scramble away before the wave it sends _crashes_ over the speedboat, drenching them all from head-to-toe – Geoff spits out sea salt and blinks it out of his eyes before he can get too disoriented, ignoring the unpleasant feeling of being completely soaked to focus on grenading the cops.

Before Geoff can fire, the boat bucks up and flips over with a fantastic, thunderous _boom_ before Geoff can even blink, its hull burnt completely black and there’s a moment where he can watch the paint peel off before another great _bang_ rocks the ocean and the engine explodes.

Geoff twists to glare at Ryan, who just lowers the launcher and waves pleasantly.

“You fuck, that was mine!” Geoff yells, but he’s not that serious.

“All right, you’re clear, boat team,” Gavin pants over the comms. “Dock north and head back. Jeremy, toss this out the window.”

“You sure you don’t need it?”

“Yeah, toss it. They know we’ve got it, they’re tracking us with it now,” Gavin replies.

“Wow, it took them this long to figure it out?”

“Well that’s the LSPD for ya,” Michael drawls, and Geoff snickers quietly before pushing himself away from the back of the boat.

Jack slows down to a gentle crawl, the waves lapping peacefully at the sides of the boat as Geoff and Ryan put their launchers away and take off some of their heavier gear. Ryan dumps the duffle bag under the wheel, as per Jack’s request, and Geoff flops down in the dryest seat he can find, sighing in relief.

“Either of you hurt?” Jack asks, turning around to face them. He’s _dripping_ wet, his black Hawaiian soaked straight through and his sunglasses speckled with droplets. His hat is hooked on a gearstick, sadly drip-dripping away to join the puddle on the floor.

“Not seriously,” Geoff replies, reaching down to rub his leg where the bullet grazed him earlier. It stings from the salt water, aches even more sharply now with the adrenaline fading away. “Ryan?”

 _I’m good_ , Ryan signs as he takes a seat near Geoff, two spaces down.

“Well hey, that was successful,” Jack says, cracking a smile at Geoff as he sits down. “Didn’t need to call in B.”

“Thank god,” Geoff groans. “Fuck, I need to sleep for a goddamn _week_ after this.”

“Good luck with that, we’ve got to launder all this by next Friday.”

“ _Ugh_.”

\-- 

As it is, Geoff and Ryan end up, somehow naturally, in a cop chase.

They had ended up splitting up for escape, Jack jetting away with the duffle in a speedy stolen car and Geoff and Ryan in another jacked car, and where Jack had arced north, they had arced south, and ran quite promptly into an LSPD roadblock.

Turns out, the Vagabond’s mask is quite recognisable, even behind a windshield.

So, with bullets flying and wheels squealing, Geoff had spun a sharp 180 and _booked_ it for the corner, screeching around dangerously fast and overcorrecting as Ryan grunts, slammed against the window while bullets pockmark the road around them. The sirens are loud again, whooping wailing sirens that seems to _surround_ them as Ryan loads a gun and directs Geoff down streets with a hand.

Ryan knocks out the rest of the broken window with his elbow before leaning out to shoot, but the SMG is no match for Geoff’s wild turns, the car fishtailing while he tries to correct, fails, tries again. Ryan retreats back into the car and focuses on directing Geoff instead, gesturing left or right as they round blocks, gradually putting distance between them and the cops.

Geoff turns a sharp left and – 

“There’s another roadblock!” He yelps, slamming his foot on the brake before he can barrel down the street to the block at the end.

Ryan jabs his finger at a narrow alleyway and Geoff guns towards it, wincing when he knocks one of his side mirrors off. It opens into – a car park, and Geoff realises with frightening certainty that he _knows_ this car park. Knows it very, _very_ well.

“Wait, what – ” he starts as Ryan instructs him to park.

 _We’ll hide in the club_ , Ryan signs, slinging his gun over his shoulder before stepping out of the car. He doesn’t wait for Geoff before striding across and Geoff scrambles to follow him, slamming the car door shut.

“Wait, we – we can’t – ” But Ryan just shoots him a look and Geoff’s excuses shrivel up and die on his tongue.

All he can really hope is Ryder isn’t in yet. He doesn’t want to run into him like this.

Ryan leads them around to the side entrance, grabbing Geoff’s wrist to drag him in – it’s the changing rooms, half-naked performers staring at them and someone yelping, startled, as they stride in, but Geoff keeps his eyes firmly down and most of the performers don’t bat an eyelash, merely moving out of their way as Ryan confidently walks through, weaves around a corner. 

“Everyone freeze!”

Ryan abruptly stops near the wardrobe racks, his eyes widening under the mask as he and Geoff share a panicked look, the sound of measured bootsteps filling the space behind them. 

“Just a search!” The cop announces. “Seen anyone unusual around?”

To Geoff’s absolute surprise, no one gives them away, and while he’s stuck on that, Ryan tugs him in between portable racks, spinning them to back Geoff against the wall – Geoff’s shoulders hit plaster and he gasps, startled when Ryan shucks his jacket. The cops haven’t come in their area yet, although by the crunch of their footsteps, they’re not far from moving on beyond locker room.

 _What_? Geoff signs. Ryan grunts and hooks his fingers through Geoff’s body armour to tell him to take it off. Geoff furrows his brows.

 _Trust me_ , Ryan signs, and tosses his jacket behind the clothes rack, his gun and body armour following shortly after, and _oh_ , Geoff sees what they’re doing now. Blending in. Although even as he obediently undoes his body armour and hides it behind the rack, he’s not quite sure what Ryan’s plan is –

Ryan grabs Geoff’s hands and shoves them up under his thin T-shirt, pressing them forcefully to his sides as Geoff jumps, his fingers automatically curling into Ryan’s skin and his pulse suddenly thudding _hot_ through his veins. Ryan’s head bends towards his, his panting loud enough under the mask even that Geoff can hear it.

Ryan presses closer to Geoff, plastering them together from chest to hip as he cocks his head, listening carefully for police footsteps. Geoff, for his part, is a bit too stunned to actually think, short-circuited by the intense, solid heat of Ryan against him.

Ryan suddenly reaches up and rips his mask off, and crushes his mouth to Geoff’s before Geoff can even take a breath, his eyes instinctively shutting while Ryan hides the mask and settles his hands on Geoff’s cheeks instead, hiding him from view as a beam of torchlight sweeps over them, startles them enough for Geoff to open his mouth.

“And what – oh, sorry, didn’t realise somebody was gettin’ _busy_ back here,” someone says, a certain sleaze to his voice that Geoff detests.

“Little early, isn’t it?” the other jokes. Ryan leaves Geoff’s mouth and a wet _smack_ and turns to them, panting slightly,

“Can I help you, officers?” He asks shortly, raising an indignant eyebrow.

Geoff can’t see the officers around the rack, and they can’t see him, but he can only imagine the looks on their faces. His heart pounds in his chest.

“Not unless you’ve seen two members of the Fakes runnin’ around.”

“I haven’t,” Ryan answers coolly, and jerks his head at Geoff. “Now if I can get back to my job?”

“Sure,” an officer snorts, the torch beam swinging away from them. “We’ll leave you to it, just let us know if ya see anything, ‘kay? We’re parked outside.”

Ryan’s already kissing Geoff again in lieu of an answer, his lips pressed carefully to Geoff’s mouth as the footsteps recede. Geoff’s still frozen when Ryan pulls back an inch, refusing to open his eyes because there is just no _fucking_ way Ryan is who he thinks he is.

“You’re welcome,” Ryan says, his breath puffing out over Geoff’s lips. He doesn’t make any move to retreat, although his hands do slip down to grip Geoff’s shirt.

“Smooth ride?” Geoff breathes in disbelief. Ryan laughs quietly.

“Best I could think of on the spot,” he replies.

“You’re tellin’ me you didn’t have a fuckin’ - stage name already?”

“Most people don’t care about names.” Ryan pauses. “Except you.”

“I care about a lot more than just your name,” Geoff replies automatically, and halts when Ryan sucks in a quiet breath, something delicate like spun sugar hanging between them that tastes like all the words Geoff wants to say.

But he doesn’t have the time right now.

“First of all,” Geoff says shakily, lifting a hand to jab Ryan in the chest with a finger, eyes still squeezed _tightly_ shut. “You’re putting the mask on and we’re getting out of here.”

“And _then_ ,” he continues, before Ryan can use that inhale for words. “We’re having dinner, and you’re explaining all of this.”

“...dinner, huh?” Ryan teases breathlessly.

Geoff nods.

“Only if it’s a date,” Ryan adds, quiet and hesitant, and Geoff’s head spins enough that hey _fuck it_ might as well put all his chips in, his lips brushing Ryan’s when he speaks.

“Sure,” he says. “It’s a fucking date.”


End file.
